


Are you ready to checkout?

by WylieSchatz



Category: Professional Wrestling, Raw (TV), World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychological Horror, Survival Horror, ambreigns - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-09-30 18:25:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10169096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WylieSchatz/pseuds/WylieSchatz
Summary: He camped alone in a haunted forest or an abandoned hospital, of course fearless because he still didn't believe in ghosts (other than Roman) but his next book should be about haunted hotels and he decided to start with the “Dolphin Hotel” anywhere in Nevada.He liked that name, though it was everything than creepy and was definitely a hotel you wouldn't assume in the desert of Nevada. It was a classy one. Six stories high, a touch of old architecture outside and inside the building, with lots of mahogany furniture.





	1. Welcome to the Dolphin Hotel

**Author's Note:**

> My new fanfiction. It's some horror-ghost-thingy just like the movie 1408 which I ADORE. This story is mostly like the movie but with Ambreigns. ;)
> 
> Still no betareader. So if you'll find any mistakes, you may keep them.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was a sunny afternoon, the sun were shining relentlessly in Nevada and the radio was playing an old song which Dean hummed along while studying the map. They were on the road for nearly 4 hours now and Roman was very thankful for the A/C in his sedan and his sunglasses he didn't leave at home.

“What was this place called again?” asked Roman while he was driving through the desert.

“The Dolphin Hotel.” stated Dean.

“Sounds nice. And... where is it?”

“Not sure.” he studied the map for one hour now.

“What?!”

His answer made Roman nearly hit the brakes. Dean can't be serious...

“I said 'Not sure' but we must be close. The sign we drove by said we're heading in the right direction.” Dean told him as if it would be the most normal thing in life to drive to a hotel without an address or an idea on which continent it's located.

“Seriously? You don't even know exactly were this freaking hotel is? What if we need help? Are we gonna say 'Just follow the signs?'”

“Relax Ro. We won't need help. In my whole life, I've never seen a ghost before and you didn't either. I only need a new story for my book and you know that. I need inspiration and that ghost thing is kind of cool AND totally in at the moment. We'll make a hell of money with it.”

“Why did I even agree to come with you?”

“Because you love me, AND it's boring without me. You don't have to complain. The room I wanna check in even got a king-size bed, if you know what I mean.” he winked at his boyfriend as he looked at him. 

“I. Can't. Believe. It.” Roman said but kept driving. They were somewhere near Paradise Valley on the 95th highway to McDermitt, that he could tell.

Dean started again with humming a random song before he folded the map and put them away. He stretched his sore muscles and yawned. He was lucky enough to get Roman's company on that trip. At least he had someone to talk to. Usually he was alone on his trips searching a new story.

He camped alone in a haunted forest or an abandoned hospital, of course fearless because he still didn't believe in ghosts (other than Roman) but his next book should be about haunted hotels and he decided to start with the “Dolphin Hotel” anywhere in Nevada.

He liked that name, though it was everything than creepy and was definitely a hotel you wouldn't assume in the desert of Nevada. It was a classy one. Six stories high, a touch of old architecture outside and inside the building, with lots of mahogany furniture.

What he didn't told Roman though was, that he wanted a special room for them to stay the night. It was room 1408. He read a lot in old newspapers in the archives of tragic accidents or suicides that happened inside the room, so he just knew, he had to stay in here no matter what. Maybe it'll give him even a chill down his spine, who knew? But he had problems to book the room- in fact, he didn't. He had to take care of it when they got there.

Shreds of his call last week came into his mind.

 

_It rang only shortly before a nice sounding women picked up the phone._

_“Dolphin Hotel, My name is Mrs. Bella. How might I direct your call?”_

_“Yeah hi, Dean Ambrose. I'd like to book a room for two. If possible room 1408.”_

_“I'm sorry Mr. Ambrose but I'm afraid this room isn't available.”_

_He was startled._

_“Well I didn't say which date...”_

_“Sadly, this room isn't available. But I can recommend one of our suites. If you tell me the time frame, I...”_

_“I don't want any other room. I want room 1408 next Tuesday, one night, for two.”_

_“As I told you, this...”_

_“Mrs. Bella, please. If you don't get me this room, I'll need to talk to your manager.”_

_She didn't seem bothered by that and so he told him that he will be connected but it may take a while. The phone line went dead and then a random melody, maybe Mozart, was heard._

_“Why the hell is it so complicated?” muttered Dean as he was tipping his pen on the piece of paper before him._

_He had the last four articles printed. The last accident happened in 1999 where a young man died drowning in his soup. Dean would have laughed at that if it weren't so sad. But accidents happen right?  
He stood up and stretched as suddenly the music went dead._

_“Dolphin Hotel manager Helmsley. Mr. Ambrose, you wanted to talk to me?”_

_“Yes, I'd like to stay in room 1408 but your receptionist isn't helping at all.”_

_“She already told me that. But I'm afraid I have to tell you the same as my employee.”_

_“So, why's that?”_

_“The room's unavailable any more.”_

_“But it still exist?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Then I'm checking in. What about next Tuesday?”_

_“Unavailable.”_

_Dean grinned. That must be some kind of sick joke._

_“Next month?”_

_“Unavailable.”_

_“Next summer?”_

_That's when the line went dead._

 

“There is a Texaco coming up. Better we get some gas and something to drink.”

Roman jolted Dean right out of his dreams.

“What? Oh... oh yeah. Good idea! I feel like crap. Shouldn't have had that stupid whiskey yesterday.”

“I told ya.”

“God Mom please, can I get my Roman back?”

“I dare you to call me like that again.”

 

They did some shopping and drove another half hour until they reached their destination.

“Wow. Nice place.”

“Yeah looks cool. Let's check in. Can't wait to get into that room.” Dean said and got their luggage out of Roman's sedan.

They went into a great hall with dark wood surrounding the walls. Big chandeliers were hanging from the ceiling. It gave them a feeling of an old pirate ship. It didn't feel like the 2000's any more. Roman took of his sun glasses. They went to the reception.

“Welcome to the Dolphin, sirs. Are you checking in?” a good looking, brown haired female asked them. He looked at her name tag. N. Bella.

“Yes. Dean Ambrose. One night for two.”

She hacked something in her computer. What he couldn't see was that there was a tab in the browser popping up that the manager should be immediately informed when he's checking in.

“Would you excuse me for a moment, sir?”

“Sure.”

She grabbed the telephone on the counter.

“Mr. Helmsley, Mr. Ambrose just checked in.”

“Where is he?”

“He's over at my desk.”

“That's just fine, Thank you Nikki. I'll take care of it.”

“Okay.”

She hang up and spoke again to Dean, smiling friendly.

“It'll just be a minute Mr. Ambrose.”

“Okay.”

“Is something wrong?” Roman asked.

He was admiring the view of the interior from the latest century and all the little details that he didn't really paid attention to the conversation Dean just had.

“No, everything's fine. We just have to wait a moment.”

Dean was looking around, too.

“This place is amazing.”

“Yeah. I didn't even know something like that exists in the desert. It's looks more than a Hotel in Carson City or Las Vegas.”

They were standing in front of the reception as someone suddenly were in Dean's face. He was a small man in his thirties, with brown hair and was dressed in a concierge suit. His name tag said “James”.

“Good evening, sirs. Can I help you with your bags?”

“No thank you.” Roman said.

“Allright.”

And he was gone.

“Strange dude, huh?”

“Not only that he just sprung right in my face, did you see his non existent chin?” Dean joked.

“Excuse me?”

A deep voice came from behind them. It came from an intimidating looking man with broad shoulders, brown short hair and a look on his face that he's not one to joke with.

“I'm Hunter H. Helmsley, manager of the Dolphin. If there's anything I can do for you, or your companion, while you're here, whatever it is- anything- just tell me. I am at your service.” 

He reached out his hand to Dean.

“Dean Ambrose.”

He pointed in Romans direction.

“This is my friend Roman Reigns.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Helmsley and Roman shook hands, too.

“Well, if we can just get the key to 1408, we can get out of your hair.” 

“Oh, we were thinking of upgrading you to a penthouse suite.”

Dean was getting impatient.

“Not gonna happen. 1408, please.”

“Insistent, aren't we? Could you please humor me by coming to my office for a more private conversation?”

“Sure.”

“Excellent.”

They followed through the great hall past an orange seating accommodation to a not less impressive room. It was of course smaller but with the same dark wall panel as the great hall, dimmed golden wall lights and a lot of antique decorations. It looked courtly but cosy at the same time.

“Please take a seat. Can I get you something to drink? I got an exquisite 'Le Cinquante Sept Deces, 1939'. About $800 a bottle when you can find it.”

“No thank you.” both said in unison.

“Look, Mr. Helmsley. I don't want to be rude. We really appreciate it but we intend on staying in that room.”

“How long?”

“Overnight. We're both gone tomorrow morning.”

Mr. Helmsley looked thoughtful at both men. He took his time before he continued.

“No one's ever lasted more than an hour.”

Roman gulped and looked at Dean. He could tell that his friend thought this man in front of him is joking.

“Jesus, man. You ought to shave your eyebrows and paint your hair gold if you're gonna try to sell that spook house bullshit. Otherwise you'll scare the children.”

Hunter seemed calm and sat down on his chair. He folded his hands in front of him.

“Why are you mocking me when I am genuinely, trying to help you?”

“Helping us? No, you're playing a little game. But eventually we all know you're gonna give us the key and we're gonna go up to the room. Look, I'm writing a book about you're hotel, especially about room 1408. Maybe this is gonna be a bestseller. By mentioning your hotel, well, maybe your bookings will go up 50-60%...”

“Sir, it seems that you quite misunderstand the situation. Though were in the middle of nowhere in Nevada, we operate at 90% capacity. Always. And my concern here is not for the hotel. My concern here isn't for you. Frankly, selfishly, I don't want you two to check into because I don't want to clean up the mess.” 

He stood up again, and started pacing the room.

“Now hotels are all about presentation and fertile creature comforts. I'm a manager, not a coroner. Under my watch there have been four deaths... four. After the last one, I forbade any guest from checking into 1408 ever again.”

Roman grabbed Dean's arm and looked concerned.

“You really wanna risk that? Let's take the offer from Mr. Helmsley and sleep in the Penthouse suite.”

“You're not talking me out of it, Ro.”

Dean was serious.

“You're friend is smart, Mr. Ambrose. If I were you, I would listen to him. Well, grievously, in it's 105-year existence, the hotel has seen seven jumpers, four overdoses, five hangings, the mutilations, two stranglings-”

Dean put up his hands in a defending manner.

“General manager Helmsley, you don't have to recite the tragic history of your hotel. I read about it already.”

“Well, during your investigation, did you discover the 22 natural deaths that have occurred in 1408?”

“Natural deaths?” Roman asked. He looked bewildered. Well, it could still be just a coincidence, but...

“Ah, didn't find out about them because the newspapers don't print anything about them. All told, there have been 56 deaths in 1408.

Now, even Dean looked surprised besides Roman.

“56? Seriously?”

“Yes you heard correctly. The causes of death in 1408 range from heart attack, stroke, drowning-”

“Drowning? In the bathtub?” asked Roman.

“In a bowl of chicken soup.”

“That's... hard to do. How did he do that?”

“How indeed? Interesting. It's all in here.”

Helmsley grabbed an old book from a drawer of his desk and gave it to Dean.

“I will let you have this if you're not staying in that room. You can take notes, use it for anything you need.”

Dean seemed to think about that offer.

“You'd let me look at that?”

He stroked the old leather binding. Everything in that house seemed to be antique.

“Yes. You can take notes, put it all in your book. My only condition is that you don't stay in that room.”

“Nope. I have to stay. We, have to stay.”

“Dean, we haven't...”

“Yes, Roman, we have to.” he said calmly and looked again at Hunter who seemed to loose his patience.

“Damn it to hell! All right here, read the godforsaken thing. I guarantee you, once, you've read it you won't want to stay in 1408 any more.”

“It's not working for me. We'll stay.”

Hunter sighed.

“Mr. Kevin Owens, sewing machine salesman. Checked into the hotel, the first week it opened in 1912...”

“Cut his throat, right?”

“Oh, you're informed about that? Well, that's not the horrific part. Afterwards, in a fit of insanity, he tried to stitch himself back together using an old sewing needle before he bled to death.”

“Easy, man! That's gross!”

“Look, Mr. Reigns. You and your friend don't have to stay in 1408. You can take photographs of 1404, it has the exact same layout and no one will ever know the difference.”

“I'm not a liar. My readers expect the truth. Hey listen, this meeting's over. Why don't you give us the room?”

“Mr. Ambrose...”

“Just give me the key! Listen, I stayed at the Wyatt's house. I brushed my goddamn teeth right next to the tub where that bastard Bray Wyatt drowned his sister Abigail. And I stopped being afraid of vampires when I was twelve. Do you know why I can stay, why we can stay, in your spooky old room, Mr. Helmsley? Because we know that ghouls and ghosts and long legged beasts don't exist.”

“So I can't talk you out of this? Very well... come with me.”

 

They left the office and after a short detour to the reception, they went to the elevators. Roman noticed that the hotel didn't have keycards.

“We have magnetic cards also. But electronics don't seem to work in 1408.” Hunter explained to him. “I hope you don't have a pacemaker.” he smiled.

Roman gave Dean a look that Hunter couldn't see. They were silent on the way up. Though it was only on the 4th floor, it seemed to take longer than the conversation they had before.

“So... How do you keep this place cleaned?” Roman asked. “You said that nobody is allowed to enter that room, so I guess it must be all filthy by now. I mean, the sheets haven't been changed in what? Eleven years?”

“No, we're very professional. The room gets a light turn once a month. The maids work in pairs, they get ten minutes and I insist the door remains open the whole time. We treat the room as if it's a chamber filled with poison gas. But still, a few years ago we found a young maid locked in the bathroom. She was gone for a few minutes but when we pulled her out she was-”

“Dead?”

“No. Blind. She took a pair of scissors and gouged her eyes out. She was laughing hysterically.”

The elevator made a light 'bing' and the doors opened.

“This is your floor. This is where we part company. This is as close as I get to that room, unless it's that time of month. It's the 4th room on the left side.”

Eventually, Hunter handed Dean the key.

“See you tomorrow!” Dean said enthusiastically and waved him good bye.


	2. They should've listened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well I think I got something for you that will make you think otherwise.” Dean said and kissed him again. With the file in Roman's hands an the big duffle bag around his shoulders it was harder to make out as Dean imagined it to be. But finally he managed to get under Roman's shirt, when suddenly Dean bumped against a little leather chair with his legs and nearly fell backwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I changed the ratings a bit as you may have noticed. The Character Death thingy is gone as well as the Non-Con. I'm not sure If this suited the story right so as long as I'm not writing that kind of thing, the rating's gone. Hope you'll enjoy the next chapter.

“Dean, are you sure you want to stay in that room?”

Roman carried the book that Mr. Helmsley gave them and went through it. The first photo was from said sewing salesman Mr. Kevin Owens dead in the bathtub. His eyes are wide, his throat gashed open, a sewing needle protruding from raw flesh. It was disturbing to look at.

“Sure. Why not?” Dean said. “We're just spending one night in that room. Well... this is gonna be a hot night I promise, if you know what I mean.” he nudged him with his elbow and grinned.

As far a he could tell, this was another perfectly uneventful corridor with red carpets and wooden doors. Probably as uneventful as he considered the room to be.

Roman didn't listen to that last remark but went for the next picture instead and grimaced. It showed a nasty half-covered body in bed. The sheets were soaked.

“This is some scary shit in here...” he mentioned and went through the next picture.

“I'll have a look later, Ro. Well, let's hope that at least the room is cleaned.” he pointed to an old mouldering room service tray. On the plate are the remains of an old burger soaked in red ketchup with flies already on it. On the other side was an old laundry container but no maid to be found.

Dean kept looking for the room number. They were in front of room 1404 right now. He kept playing with the key in his hand.

“My brother was eaten by wolves on the Connecticut Turnpike.” was franticly written on stationary in the next picture and Roman read it out loud.

“Woofs.”

“What?”

“It's woofs.”

“No it's not. Only because you can't say it right doesn't mean everybody must say 'woofs'.”

Dean was turning around to his boyfriend,closed the file in his hands and looked seductively at him.

“Stop reading. I want your full attention on me.”

They were slowly moving forward as they kissed. A little child was heard from one of the rooms.

“I still think this is a bad idea...” mumbled Roman as they broke the kiss to catch some breath.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Well I think I got something for you that will make you think otherwise.” Dean said and kissed him again. With the file in Roman's hands an the big duffle bag around his shoulders it was harder to make out as Dean imagined it to be. But finally he managed to get under Roman's shirt, when suddenly Dean bumped against a little leather chair with his legs and nearly fell backwards.

“What the...?”

They looked around, confused. They were back at the elevator. A little 'ding' was heard and the elevator doors sprung open.

“Don't you think this is a sign?” Roman asked nervously.

“I'm gonna stay in this fucking room and if it's the last thing I'll ever do...”

They paid more attention now to where they were and looked the other numbers passing by.

1405... 1406... 1407...

There it was. 1408. Dean wasted no time in unlocking the door. Roman greeted a young woman with a child who was entering the room next door.

“Ready?”

Dean looked excited at Roman.

“Not really.”

“Oh come on man! This is gonna be a fun night!”

The door gave a small click and Dean turned the knob. Though it was the middle of the day it was pitch black. Dean searched the wall inside the room for the light switch, found it and turned on the lights inside of 1408.

It was a nice looking room and no one would ever assume that those creepy things ever happened here. The walls were painted in light green, the carpet were beige with brown furniture on it, in front of him he found a pastel sitting area, on the left were a little white kitchen and another door. The place seemed clean as Mr. Helmsley promised.

“That's it?”

Dean seemed disappointed as he looked around.

“That's freaking it?”

“It looks... friendly.” Roman stated as he entered after Dean the room and closed the door. They assumed spider webs hanging from the ceiling, cockroaches crawling around and maybe Roman even added a river of blood in his expectations.

He looked around and gave himself a tour. There's a couch. A coffee table, on the wall were three framed paintings, an old rotary phone and various items on a desk nearby.

In the carpet below was a water stain, and he wondered if it wouldn't be possible for the hotel to either change the carpet in a time frame of an hour or if they could just put something on it. The ladder would be the fastest solution obviously.

On the way to the sleeping room he put their stuff next to the cabinet.

“It's kinda warm in here, don't you think?” he heard Dean from the living room, clicking the wall thermostat down.

“I like it warm, you know?”

“Yeah me, too. But it's a different kind of 'hot' that I prefer.”

Roman looked around and found a king-size bed, a TV, two night stands, a cabinet and a really awful greenish butterfly wallpaper. He could imagine that this wallpaper was responsible for every fucking nightmare that happened in this suite alone. He noticed the Bible lying on one of the night stands.

He went to the next room, obviously the bath room with an antique tub on one end, a basket full of soap next to it, a toilet with the paper folded in a fancy little triangle. He tear of some sheets and wiped his nose. He threw the paper in the toilet. On his way back to the sleeping room he caught sight of a frown on his own face in the mirror. The light was very bright in this room and he looked like ten years older. Although looking nice and friendly, the room gave him a shiver down his spine he couldn't explain. And a knot was forming in his stomach, too.

“This is one hell of an evil fucking room!” he heard Dean screaming from the living room.

“Eight Dollars for corn- nuts!” he laughed as he caught sight of Roman's sorrowfully face and closed the armoire again. He opened the can and popped two nuts in his mouth.

“But we got some sodas and booze and we should make it through the night. Hey, don't you look at me like that, Ro. It was a joke.”

“It's not funny, Dean. It really isn't.”

“This book's really scared the shit outta ya, right? Let us get settled on the bed and then look through it. I bet that Helmsley guy is making up some of this stories up. There is no way that these people all died in this room, maybe in this hotel, yes. And I also think he tried to scare us away with his horror stories. Maybe he used special make up and all that stuff and reconstructed the death pictures, you know what I mean?”

“I hope you're right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, the freaky stuff is coming next. :)
> 
> Wylie


	3. Shit just got real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took quite a while. Enjoy!

**Bedroom later**

They were making out heavily on the edge of the bed. Neither were paying attention any more to the TV that Dean switched on to got some background noise. He just took a half minded sight of the pictures before he thought about having some fun and bring Roman to relax.

But Roman couldn't help himself but thinking about the incident that happened moments before.

 

_“The A/C seems to be broken.“ stated Roman, checking the little wall thermostat who relentlessly stated over 84 degrees. He tapped on it but nothing happened. He clicked the down button but nothing happened. He was getting angry and banged the device before he wiped the sweat from his face. He hates sweating by doing nothing._

_„I need a towel. Will you please call the receptionist?“_

_„Sure thing.“_

_Dean was grabbing a cold soda from the mini-bar and opened it on his way to the telephone._

_He picked up the phone and dialled the „0“._

_The line clicked two or three times._

_„The Dolphin Hotel reception.“_

_„Yeah, this is Mr. Ambrose. Room 1408.“_

_„Good evening. Are you ready to checkout?“_

_„Check out?! Why would I checkout? No, I just need someone to fix the thermostat. This room's on fire.“_

_„Of course Sir. We'll send an engineer right up.“_

_„Thank you!“_

_Dean was taking a sip when Roman came from the bathroom, wiping his face and then hanging the towel around his neck. He was looking uneasy._

_„What's wrong handsome?“_

_„You know this is the second time I was in the bathroom. The first time I was taking a bit from the toilet paper to wipe my nose. And this time I walk in, the end was folded in the same little triangle as before._

_„What?!“_

_„You heard me. And as long as you didn't fold it, there must be another person in the room.“_

_„We we're here the whole time. There wasn't a chance to get in there unnoticed.“_

_Before they could overthought it, it knocked on the door. They both jumped a little but Dean would never admit it._

_He walked to the door and looked through the peep-hole._

_„Who's there?“_

_He saw a thick small man in an overall with a toolbox in hand._

_„Engineering. You got a problem with your heat?“_

_Dean was about to open the door but nothing happened. He pulled and pulled and struggled with the handle but the door remained shut._

_„The door's stuck. Can you give it a shove?“_

_„I ain't touching it.“_

_Roman came to Dean's help. He tugged harder than Dean before, wrenching with all his might when it suddenly released and slammed open with a loud BAM._

_Roman tumbled off-balance. Now with the door open it showed to Roman what Dean already saw through the peep-hole. A fat tiny man in an way too tight overall and greasy hair._

_„Is it too hot or too cold?“ he asked nonchalantly._

_„We'll I would say too hot.“_

_Dean was pointing to himself and his sweating boyfriend._

_„C'mon right in, it's just over here...“_

_Dean was pointing and walking to the thermostat but then noticed that he was alone. He was confused and gestured to the man to come in again._

_„I said... the box is here.“_

_„I know were the fuck it is. But I ain't going in that room.“_

_„You just have to walk seven or eight feet...“ Roman stated but was impolitely interrupted._

_„I said I am not going in. You both know what happened in there?!“_

_„Yes We're quite aware...“_

_„Look, I'll talk you through it.” he was pointing at Dean. “Any jackass can fix that thing. Just remove the panel.“_

_Dean stared in disbelief how he called him but finally removed the panel. Inside there are springs and levers._

_„Okay. Now inside you see a coil?“ the engineer asked._

_„Yes.“_

_„Good. Now above that coil is a little tube filled with mercury. That's supposed to activate the contact switch, but this hotel's so old, half the shit don't work. “ he stated calmly. „Just give the tube a little tap now.“_

_Dean looked at the engineer, unsure of what to do._

_„Just tap the thing!“_

_Dean tapped the tube, the system churns , then the A/C sprung back on. He smiled relieved._

_„Aw man you're a genius! Let me give you a tip-“ Dean turned to thank the man but he was gone._

_Roman ran to the door to check were the man was but the only thing he saw was an empty hallway and he heard how the elevator doors closed._

_“What the fuck?!“_

 

**Now**

Lying side by side, their tongues played, one hand was carding through Roman's hair and the other one under his shirt again as he was gently finding his way down to his happy place.  
His boyfriend moaned in anticipation and grind himself into Dean's hands.  
Finally! It took Roman some time to shake away that strange feeling he had when the engineer wouldn't enter the room. He was starting to melt into Dean's touch.

The alarm clock went from 7:59 to 8:00.

Suddenly loud music was blaring through the room. Dean and Roman, startled, and tangled into each other were just right falling of the edge of the bed landing hard on the ground. It took some time before they understood what caused the sudden music. The deafening sound of The Carpenters were coming right out of the alarm clock.

„We've only just begun...“

Dean was the first one to catch his breath and managed to stand up again and turn it off.

“Fucking alarm. Somebody must've forgotten to turn that off. I'm sure these maids are a sly dog.”

Roman stood up, rubbing his head. 

“Did you hurt yourself?” Dean asked and put his hand on Roman's head, who was checking his hand for blood.

“No, I'm fine. Just bumped a little against that cabinet.”

“Let me just kiss it away, will you?” Dean looked seductively at his significant other and took his shirt off.

And so they started again. Dean pressed Roman against the wall kissing him needy. He tried to take off Roman's shirt without breaking the contact and he didn't know how but he managed to do so. Roman grabbed Dean's ass and lifted him up to carry him to the bed and let them both fall on top of it.

When Roman looked up he was looking at the clock again which was now showing a countdown.

59:50... 59:49...59:48...

„Uhm... Is... is this a countdown?“

Dean was crawling from under Roman to get a look at the clock.

59:45... 59:44... 59:43...

He was looking at Roman, who was still watching the numbers counting backwards, and gulped. He remembered the words Mr. Helmsley told them before they checked in:

__

__

„Nobody has ever lasted longer than an hour...“

„Okay, I am done. I gotta go.“ Roman said getting up and putting his shirt back on. „I am no longer staying. Let's just admit that the douche bag won.“

He was grabbing the duffel and head for the door. But as before he couldn't open it. He throw both hands around the handle and tugged aggressively.

„Rome, relax. That is some sick joke, I am sure!“

Dean went to the door, too.

„Don't try to worry me out of this. I need to get out!“

He was tugging harder and harder but the door didn't move an inch. By the time Dean reached him his boyfriend was nearly in a full grown anxiety attack.

“Rome, calm down, please! We're leaving but please calm down!“

„We can't leave, Dean! We're trapped in that fucking room! See that?!“ he was pointing to the handle. „It's not doing anything!“

He knew that he needed to calm down but he must escape first. Suddenly he wasn't able to breath any more. He was putting away the duffel, hardly registered Dean behind him and just ran him over in an attempt to get to the window.

“Rome!“

„Can't breathe, can't...“  


Roman was fumbling with the window lock. He was feeling like an animal in a trap, began hyperventilating. Finally the window was open, and he was sticking his head out, trying to calm down and take deep breaths again.

Dean was getting up from the ground, rubbing his hand in circles on Roman's back.

“This is good. Deep breaths.“

It took Roman a while to relax and calm down but eventually with Dean's help he managed. He was getting in again, kneeling in front of the window, one hand still resting on the windowsill.

“We're trapped. We're not getting out.“

„We will. Nothing bad happened by now. I will call and get somebody up here to fix the door, you hear me?“ Dean said, still rubbing his hand on Roman's back.

„Everything is going to be- woah FUCK!“

With a loud SMACK the window was coming down violently burying Roman's hand underneath it. He screamed in agony while Dean was trying to get the window up again.

„Come on you fucking window!“ Dean cursed, using his whole strength to get Roman out of his misery.

„Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!“

Eventually there was a silent click that both couldn't hear through the screams and the swearing but the window gave his hand free. Roman was holding his injured and bleeding hand on his wrist rambling what sounded like „...shit it's broken. It feels broken...“

„We need to clean it. Come on!“ Dean insisted not really knowing what to do in such a situation he guided Roman to the sink in the bathroom. He put Roman's injured hand under the streaming water. Both men watched the water washing out the blood from the wound and how it vanished down the drain.

After 10 seconds the faucet sputtered and then died. Dean angrily turned the handles but nothing.

“Oh come on you son-of-a-“

Scalding hot water spew out and burned Roman.

He yanked away his hand what was now not only bleeding but also burned. From the bathroom they heard the famous song that got all that shit going.

„We've only just begun...“


	4. Was it worth it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not gettin' better.

 

“Fuck you, radio!“ Dean screamed as he was examining Roman's hand. He jumped into the bedroom pulling the electrical cord from the wall and nothing happened. The radio still played this fucked up song and he could still see a countdown.

56:24... 56:23... 56:22...

Dean stared in disbelief at the clock, he looked at the end of the cord and then back to the red numbers on the display. Flummoxed he staggers back to the bathroom were Roman was still sitting on the ground cradling his burned hand.

“Hey, let me take a closer look at this, please.“ he demanded and hold out his hand to Roman.

„We need to make sure it's not getting infected.“

„I don't care about an infection. My hand is _broken_!“ Roman just kept his hand by his side, ignoring Dean's outstretched hand.

„You can't be sure-“

„I _am_ sure, Dean! This fucking window broke my hand!“

Roman screamed at him. He didn't knew if he was angry at himself or his better half.

„Just put this around it okay?“ Dean grabbed a towel and offered it to him. „It looks clean and I really don't want you to catch an infection.“

Roman took it harshly from Dean and wrapped it around his hand. He hissed as the fabric touched his burned and damaged skin.

„I'm-“

They were disturbed by a loud ring. Both jumped. The telephone. Who the hell is gonna call now? He never thought about it before but he could call for help. Yeah. That's what phones were for, right? He got up and reached the phone in record time.

„Yes?!“

„Sir I'm sorry, but there was a miscommunication in the kitchen. There's going to be a 10-minute delay on your sandwich.“

Dean looked puzzled. Did they call the wrong suite?

„What sandwich? I didn't order a sandwich?! But as long as we're on the phone, let's talk about the window that just broke the hand of my boyfriend and the water that burned him alive!“

There was a long pause at the end of the line before the voice started speaking again in the same monotone voice with just no emotion at all.

„I'm sorry. You're welcome to substitute a side dish for your french fries. We have cottage cheese, macaroni salad-“

„Are you god damn LISTENING to me?! My boyfriend is INJURED! His hand needs some stitches-“

Dean was screaming at the telephone now, not believing what was happening there. It must be a joke. Helmsley must be joking with them about everything that just happened.

„I understand. If you leave your dry cleaning out by 10 a.m., we'll have it pressed and returned by 5 the same day.“

„Fuck! Fuck _you_! I want you to call me a cab to the nearest hospital!“

The hotel voice turns sour, ruffled.

„Sir I will not tolerate you speaking to me in that tone of voice-“

„You're a fucking IDIOT!“ Dean interrupted.

„If you wish, I can connect you to our manager, Mr. Helmsley.“

„ _Good_! Helmsley it is! Put him on!“

There was a pause before the line went on hold. Some music kicked in. It was a recorded announcement.

__

„When staying at the Dolphin, be certain  
to enjoy the finest dining of Nevada,  
at the fabled Blue Marlin Restaurant  
on our Mezzanine level.“

Dean waited impatiently, grabbing his hair every now and then. He shot a look at Roman who was coming out of the bathroom, blood dripping from his hand. He took a seat on the bed and never even looked at Dean. He looked defeated.

__

„Muscles tense? Then make an  
appointment to visit our deluxe spa,  
on the Coral level. With full massage,  
facial, and aromatherapy facilities,  
it'll leave you feeling relaxed and revitalized.

Dean's temper was growing. He couldn't look away from the blood dripping on the carpet.

__

__

„Your call is important to us.  
Please stay on the line-“

But all he heard was a click and a dial tone. He has been disconnected. He stared at the phone in amazement.

„Are you kidding-“

Furious, Dean threw the phone away.

“Shit shit shit!”

He grabbed his hair again and kicked the wall before he went to Roman and knelt in front of him.

“I am so sorry this happened.”

Dean tried to comfort Roman but just didn't know how. They were so close yet so far away. It was Dean's fault after all wasn't it? He caused the misery his boyfriend was in. H couldn't just hug him as if nothing's ever happened, could he?

The owner of the Hotel was playing a sick game here. He could easily install a mechanism that made it fall onto someone's hand in the right moment. Hell, even Dean could do it despite his lack of craftsmanship. Dean was confused. Was it real or not? Can a room kill people? He looked at the countdown then at his boyfriend again.

Dean tried to convince himself that it was an accident but would Roman come to the same conclusion? After all he believed in ghosts and supernatural things in common.

Roman watched his blood dripping from his hand. The towel he'd thrown around it was already drenched in blood. The red crimson was a contrast to the innocent white towel.

“Do you think we're gonna make it?“

„What?“

„Do you think we're gonna make it?“

What escaped Roman's lips were hardly a whisper before he even looked at Dean.

“Yeah... sure.“

It was a hesitant answer from Dean who was again looking at the fucking clock with it's fucking countdown.

„You know, it's not like we can just-“ Roman pointed his head to the apartment's door. „-walk through the door.“

The door! Why didn't he think of it sooner! Dean made it in record time to the living room and the door and tried to open it but the deadbolt was locked.

„Aw c'mon!“

Uncertain he fumbled in his pockets for the big room key. When he found it he jammed it into the lock, thrusting it through the oversize hole. Before he even could turn it around it disappeared.

„Wait, what! _No_!“

He fiddled with the keyhole, trying to find the key but nothing. He looked into the blackness. Was there a whisper? No. He couldn't start hearing voices right now. But what the fuck did just happen?

He walked to the small kitchen, opened every drawer to look for anything that could help him unlocking the door. Mumbling something Roman couldn't understand he finally found a small knife that could fit into the hole.

Dean made his way back and jammed the metal blade into the keyhole. He wiggled it, trying desperately to engage the mechanics.

„C'mon...“

The auburn haired man struggled to pick the lock, forcing it around when suddenly with a loud clunk the deadbolt unlocked. 

“Yes! _Yes_! Ro, we can get out! The door is open!“

Dean smiled victoriously. He triumphantly turned the handle but it just breaks off in his hand. It took him some time before the realisation settled in that the door can know only be opened from the outside.

They were trapped. They were _fucking_ trapped.

Dean went rabid, furiously kicking the door, throwing punches at it. He even tried to claw crazily at the handle stump before he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Roman.

„It's okay...“ he tried to calm Dean.

„No it's not! _It's not_! I don't get it! How can a door handle break? Fucking how?! We need to get you to a hospital! We... we need to get out!“

Seems like he'd forgotten they were in that god-awful suite. He was taking the handle off the ground just to throw it across the room.

“It doesn't matter does it?“ Roman sighed. „Well, we... we could try the window.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave your thoughts in the review section. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. ~ Wylie


End file.
